The Role of an Angel
by xxRuseyxx
Summary: Kurt Hummel is fed up. He is being tormented at school worse than usual and nobody seems to notice. One day, it all becomes too much. Warnings for self-harm and suicide.


_Hello. I'm Kurt Hummel and I'll be auditioning for the role of an Angel._

Ever since I was little, I knew I was different. There was always something about me that other boys didn't have. I wasn't quite sure what it was until I went to high school, but it was always there. When other boys wanted to play football, I wanted to play dress-up. When the teacher split the class up – boys to Lego and girls to Barbie's- I always wanted to play with the girls. When other boys went to Basketball matches with their dad, I went to dance lessons. I had always stuck out like a sore thumb, and the other kids always made fun of me for it. So I created my own armour. I kept up a hard exterior around most people, only dropping it at home or when I was performing. When my Mom died, It became that much harder to put up a brave face, and my armour became stronger, and came down less often. Nowadays, I am only truly free when I perform.

Sometimes, it's hard to keep my armour up. Sometimes, it's painful to pretend that I can take anything. Sometimes, it's hard to play the part everyone expects you to play, to stick to the script they all want you to read. It's something no one else could understand. No one bothers to try and comprehend what I'm going through. They don't see what's happening. How every single dark look, hurtful name or subtle nudge chips away at my cold exterior and slowly brings me closer to the brink. They don't see.

Occasionally it's the looks that hurt the most. The thinly-veiled hatred burning in their eyes, making me flinch and turn away. The 'you think you're so perfect' easy to read in their faces as they try to remain polite, when it's obvious they can't stand the sight of me. It's the looks that form the first, small hairline cracks in my outer-shell.

Sometimes it's the names that hurt the most. The insults whispered as I pass through the corridor, never enough for me to know who said it, just a constant stream of words following me at every turn. That old nursery rhyme lied, because words can hurt a lot and I know sometimes I'd prefer sticks and stones to the torrent of names cascading upon me again and again. These are from people who are brave enough to insult me to my face without me knowing them, the people who might not like me, but never give any solid proof. It's the names that form tiny little chips in my armour, too many of those and the whole thing breaks.

Most the time, I'll find the nudges the most hurtful. It's the pushes in the crowded hallways, always leaving dark bruises that remain for a week, the ones that leave my usually alabaster skin tainted purple, yellow and green for the world to see. These are usually the most forceful, a gift from people who I know don't like me, who I know wouldn't care if I was dead. It's the nudges that form the large but rare holes in my hard exterior, baring small parts of me to the world.

If you put all these together, I have no armour left.

Which leaves me here. Kurt Hummel in my bathroom with a bread knife. It sounds like some twisted game of Cluedo, and it's my move. I roll up my long-sleeved Alexander McQueen top and look at the careful red lines already there. They are the only way I could survive the past months. The taunting was worse than usual, and the red lines were surrounded by purple-tainted skin due to the excessive 'nudges'. With the scars and the bruises, my arm looks depressingly like my pre-school colouring book did and I hate it. I hate what it stands for. What it reminds me of. What it says about me as a person. I hate it for being a physical representation of the mess that my life has been since the minute I stepped into my stupid high school, since I came out to the world. What I hate most though, is my inability to stop. My inability to look upon the scars I hate and swear to never do it again. As usual I long for the feeling of release.

My hand caresses the smooth, familiar handle of the knife. The deadly weapon fits nicely into the palm of my hand as I pick up the well-worn utensil. Without shaking, the knife takes a well-known route to my left wrist. Just as all the times before, the touch of the blade against my skin is freeing, and gives me a way to escape the hell hole that is my life for a little while. I watch, detached from my body, as the crimson blood bubbles against the blade of the knife before it becomes a river flowing gently from the shallow incision. I lift the knife and drag it across my skin again and again, and I revel in the freedom it gives me. Cutting is the one thing in my life I can have control of. All the other things are variables, changing time and time again whilst cutting is my only constant. It keeps me sane. It is there and then that I decide. Nobody would miss me- not my parents, nor my 'friends', and definitely not the kids at school. So I decide to take the final step. I lift the knife for one last time, and raise it to my exposed neck. I stare at myself in the mirror, my porcelain skin and usually pristine clothes stained with blood, my eyes locked on mine in some sort of showdown. I know that it's time. My hands shake for the first time that evening as I gently press the crimson-stained blade to my throat. I close my eyes and push down, pulse racing. Suddenly, I am not detached any more, and I let out a pain-filled yell that is quickly choked by my blood as I sink to the previously white tiled floor. My spare hand reaches up to claw at my throat only to fall back to the floor as it loses mobility. As I sit in a puddle of blood, still loosely holding a knife, my eyes flicker closed for the last time.

**Hey! Thanks for reading my story! It's my first one for glee, but I'm quite proud of it! Any constructive criticism feel free to let me know in a review! Anybody who reads You Only Live Once, I'm planning on updating soon so look out for that! Hope you all enjoyed the ride and let me know what you think!**

**Review!**

**xxRuseyxx**


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